Missing
by aussieokie
Summary: It's almost Christmas, and Ressler has a plane to catch to spend the holidays with his family in Detroit. But things don't quite go according to plan. Written as part of The 2018 Blacklist Secret Santa, for my recipient Mickey McKeown, (my fellow co-conspirator who loves suffering Ressler as much as I)
1. Chapter 1

"I'm cold!" Liz moaned, and Ressler glanced at her as they trudged through ankle deep snow toward the large private residence, hotel and country club. It was a converted old mansion, Spanish in style, and something Reddington would feel right at home in, he mused.

"You're always cold," he told her, smiling as they approached the huge front doors.

As they stood on the step, she wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the snow flurries on the brisk wind. "So, your flight is at 6?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing at his watch. "Got plenty of time."

"If they ever answer the door," she muttered, before the doors were opened to them to reveal a butler.

At the sight of the elderly, white haired gentleman, Ressler refrained from asking if his name was Albert, and asked if they could speak to Mr Marco Torres.

"Right this way, sir, ma'am," the man said, and let them in. As they made their way through the foyer and under a large chandelier, Ressler was reminded of Wayne Manor even more. The stopped outside a large mahogany door, and the butler let them in.

As a middle-aged man dressed in business attire turned to them, Ressler introduced themselves. "Mr Torres, Agents Ressler and Keen," he said as they flashed their ID badges, "I understand you have something to tell us?"

The man appeared nervous. "No, I'm not Torres. He, um." He stopped, wiping his brow. "My God, let me show you." He moved toward another exit from the room, motioning for them to follow and entered a large library. Books lined the dark wood walls from floor to ceiling. "I found this," he said, licking his lips as he stood beside a massive desk in the center of the room. "I found him here this morning." Unable to look a moment longer he stepped from the room, leaving Ressler and Liz looking down at a body.

"Mr Marco Torres, I presume," Ressler said, squatting down to the body as he snapped on some latex gloves. He looked up at Liz. "Why don't you go talk to our nervous nelly out there and I'll look around and try and figure out what happened here."

###

An hour later, having called the Post Office and talked with Cooper as well as Reddington, Ressler was frustrated. Reddington had not been at all pleased that the man he'd sent them to talk to was dead. The forensics team arrived and carted off the dear departed Mr Torres to the coroner that Reddington had specified. Ressler stood on the step outside watching the black van drive off. He glanced at his watch. 2pm now and he needed to be at the airport by 5pm and it was a good hour's drive back to the city on good roads. With the snow moving across the city, he'd need more time to get there, check in with Cooper, then grab his bag from his apartment and catch a cab to the airport.

Liz came up behind him, and peered outside, not wanting to step out into the cold wind. "Hey, Samar is on her way up here to help me go through this. Reddington needs us to talk to the staff and give this place the once over." Ressler turned back to her, his breath huffing around his face and nodded. Liz gave him a knowing smile. "Actually, I think she has an ulterior motive for making the long trek up here. She's thinking of booking a room in the hotel side of this place so her and Aram can spend Christmas Eve here tomorrow night." She looked out at the expansive garden across the circular drive, past their parked vehicles. "It is beautiful here, even with the snow."

"It is," Ressler agreed, stepping back inside. "Even with Mr Torres killed in the library with the candlestick." Liz smiled at the reference. "Can you head back with her?" he asked, "I really need to get out of here before I'm late. I know my family expect me to have to work, but I'm going to make it this year."

"Right? Surprise them all at this big Christmas family reunion. It will do you good to get out of the city for a while and spend some time with them," Liz replied.

Ressler groaned. "Right. That's what I keep telling myself." He really wasn't looking forward to it though. The same questions would arise. Why was he still working so far away in DC? His mother needed him closer. She wasn't getting any younger, you know. Are you seeing anyone? Why aren't you seeing anyone? You're not getting any younger either. And so it would go on. The Spanish Inquisition had nothing on the Ressler clan at family gatherings.

He felt Liz's hand on his arm. "I'm sure you will be fine," she said, smiling. "Go," she said, motioning him toward the door. "I've got this. I'll wait for Samar and head back to the Post Office once we're done."

"Thanks," he said, and felt for the SUV keys in his coat pocket. "So, if I don't hear from you again, have a good Christmas, Liz," he said, "and give Agnes a hug from her Uncle Donnie."

"I will, for sure. I'm sorry you can't come over on Christmas day. She'd love to see you again." She looked up at him, touching his arm once more. "I'd have liked that too."

Ressler held her eyes. He too would much rather be spending Christmas dinner with Liz and her little girl than heading up to Detroit for a few days with his own family. He sighed, then forced a smile. "Another time, okay?"

"You're on," she said, and patted his arm. "Go on, before you end up missing that flight," she grinned.

"Thanks, and I'll catch you in a few days." And with another look at her, he turned and left the mansion and made his way down the circular steps and crunched his way through the snow to their SUV.

###

Traffic was thankfully light as Ressler made his way south toward the city and his apartment. The roads had been recently plowed and he was making good time. But the benefit with not as much snow on the road meant there was more ice as the remnants refroze, so he kept his speed in check. His phone rang, and carefully taking it out of his pocket, keeping one eye on the road ahead and one in his rear view, he answered it.

"Ressler."

"Agent Ressler, have you left the Torres estate?" Cooper asked.

"Yes, sir, I'm heading back in. I should be back in about 45 minutes."

"That's why I'm calling. We're about to close up shop here, so no need to come back in to the office. I just wanted to wish you all the best for Christmas. Just get on that plane and spend time with your family."

"I will, thank you sir. Merry Christmas to you too."

As Ressler hung up, he glanced into his rear-view mirror again. A large truck was getting impatient, wanting to pass. Each time he tried, traffic would come from the other direction. Ressler kept an eye on him, shaking his head at the driver's impatience. As traffic from the other direction decreased, the large freight truck moved out and around him on the tree lined road.

It happened so fast, Ressler barely had time to react. As the truck swung around him, it hit smooth ice on the road, causing the trailer of the truck to hydroplane, sweeping from side to side on the road. In danger of being hit, Ressler spun the wheel out the way of the careening trailer, narrowly missing being hit.

"Shit!" he cried out, wrestling with his own vehicle that was now sliding dangerously on the ice. "Damn you!" he yelled at the unseen driver, who had now got his truck under control. Ressler slid on the ice and off the road, while the truck went on, the driver apparently oblivious to anything.

And just as Ressler thought he'd got his car slowed on the side of the road, the bottom fell out, literally as he hit a solid patch of ice. The vehicle skidded a foot, and as if in slow motion it slid backwards toward the roadside embankment, gathering speed. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!" he yelled, gripping the wheel attempting to head it out of the downward slide. As the car slid, his steering was useless. With a crash, the car dropped sickeningly, dropping out of sight of the road and plunging downward through snow laden undergrowth. The vehicle hit a tree and bounced, pushing in his door, and he was only kept in his seat by his seat belt. His phone flew from his fingers, landing somewhere behind him, as the car slid backward, crunching its way down through the underbrush.

Another tree blocked his path and for a moment he thought he'd stopped, before the car flung sideways and suddenly, he was sideways then upside down as the car tumbled, the sides and roof caving in around him. He barely heard the scream that left his lips as he was flung from one side to the other, his seat belt the only thing saving him from landing headfirst on the roof. His vision tumbled with the car, and he lost his bearings in a dizzying mess of breaking glass and metal around him.

A sickening crunch and the sound of breaking glass behind him announced a large tree limb shattering the back window. What was left of the SUV hurtled downward, as the thick underbrush opened up behind him, to close immediately once he'd passed, hiding his passage. The vehicle slid the final few feet, slamming to a halt as a heavy tree branch fell onto the roof, crushing it within inches of his head. He ducked down, both cursing and thankful for his seat belt.

And suddenly there was stillness. No more tumbling down the embankment. The only sound that reached his ears was his panting breaths and the settling of small tree limbs and wet snow plopping onto and into the wrecked vehicle. His heart pounding, he hung in place, his seat belt holding, waiting to see if the vehicle had stopped moving. He held his breath, then exhaled it in a rush as everything settled and grew quiet around him.

"Holy shit," he whispered, trying to catch his breath. Gingerly he looked around, ducking to peer under the caved in roof of the vehicle. The rear end appeared to be rammed up against a thick tree. He wasn't level, and the car tilted back at an alarming angle, and downward toward the passenger side. He spun around to face the front again, cursing out loud at the narrowed opening where the front wind shield had been. He was never going to fit through that gap. He felt as if he were in a car crushing machine at a wrecker, with the small space he found himself in.

"Shit," he repeated, still trying to ascertain the entirety of his situation. He was damn lucky he hadn't been crushed to death. He felt relatively safe for now, but there was very little room to maneuver. He closed his eyes at the growing pain of slamming into the window and roof on his descent. He reached his shaking fingers up to his forehead, feeling the warm stickiness of blood. Below him, his lower left leg throbbed as the crushed door threatened to pin him in place.

And up above him on the road, the traffic continued along its way. There was no sign of his exit from the road. The trees and bushes had closed ranks after his path, the only indication a few snapped branches and a soft pile of wet snow on the ground and faint tracks, as fresh snow began to obliterate even that.


	2. Chapter 2

At the Torres mansion, Liz was listening to the same story over and over from the staff. No one had seen anything. Mr Torres had retired at his usual time and been found dead in the library early in the morning. As she thanked yet another maid (how many maids did one old guy need?) Samar approached with the same story. No one had seen or heard anything.

"I think Ressler's right," Liz said, and smiled at Samar's cocked eyebrow. "It's like a game of Clue."

"Where's Colonel Mustard when you need him?" Samar added, then looked up at the chandelier. "I'm going around to the hotel side to book a room for tomorrow. I think we've done all we can here for today."

"I'll come with you," Liz replied, half wondering if she could have Agnes a day early from Scottie, and if her little girl might like it up here too. As they walked, Samar spoke of Aram micromanaging everything this Christmas, but she wanted to be spontaneous and book this one thing.

"Get used to it," Liz grinned, and Samar laughed.

"I don't mind, really. He's adorable when he gets in that mode." She looked across to Liz as they made their way down a long, richly carpeted hallway toward the hotel lobby. "Will you have Agnes Christmas day?"

"Yes, I'll be picking her up from Scottie around 8am. I can't wait to see her!"

"Family should be together on the holidays. You'll have a great time," Samar said, smiling at Liz as they reached the richly furnished hotel lobby. "And how about Ressler, finally going to see his family? I wonder how he'll survive, being away from work that long." She grinned, and added, "No, really, I'm glad he went. It's about time he took a break."

Liz only smiled in return, knowing of Ressler's trepidation at seeing his family. A small pang of emptiness hit her in the middle. She missed him.

"What's wrong?" Samar asked, noticing the change immediately. As Liz shook her head, Samar nodded knowingly. "He'll be fine. He'll have a great time once he's there. You'll be fine too."

###

Ressler was far from fine, but he perked up as a thought hit him. "Where the hell is my phone?" he said out loud, ignoring the shaking in his voice. Did he dare unbuckle his belt though, and risk moving the car again to try and find it? He had no idea if he were at the bottom of the embankment or if there was way more before it hit the bottom. And he probably wouldn't survive another drop like this one.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the snow-covered thick underbrush, he made out more details of his surroundings. The back window was gone, the hatch door ripped open a few inches at the bottom, with the rear end completely stoved in. No way out that way. The storage bins on either side of the rear compartment were warped and twisted. The rear passenger seat had survived, though the roof was low, obliterating the window openings. The passenger door was against the ground. He was trapped in a metal coffin.

"Oh, my God."

In a sudden panic, phone momentarily forgotten, he needed to get out of the car and the claustrophobic mass of metal surrounding him. He yanked on the driver's door, knowing it was in vain. The crumpled edges of the door frame told him that, yet still he tried, pulling up on the handle and ramming his elbow into the door. He felt fresh blood seeping down his left leg at the movement.

"Damn you! Move!" he yelled, pushing on the door as hard as he can. Nothing moved. It was wedged completely, now part of the body of the car. "Damn it! Open!" he shouted, pushing on the door again, slamming his throbbing elbow into it over and over. But he couldn't get his weight behind it. The door was on an incline above him and he was pinned in his seat.

Blindly fumbling for his seat belt buckle, he pushed the clasp and as the seat belt gave way he lurched half out of his seat, falling toward the passenger seat. A flare of pain seared across his chest as he hit the gear stick and center console, and his leg pain screamed anew, but he ignored it. With an effort he scrambled out of his seat and out from under the steering wheel coming to land on the crumpled passenger door where sharp metal jammed into his back, cutting through his woolen coat. Panting at the exertion, he reviewed his situation from this different angle.

He might be able to open the rear door on the driver's side. With a new goal in mind he pulled himself upward between the two front seats and slithered on his belly up the glass covered back seat toward the door. His spirits sank at the sight of it. It was even more caved in than the driver's door. He thumped it, screamed at it, told it every F word and expression he could think of and it held fast, mocking his attempts. He fell back onto the long bench seat, breathing hard, his hands bleeding and his arms burning with the effort. But he wasn't done yet. Laying on his back, bracing himself, he rammed his feet into the rear door. All he achieved was a pain that shuddered up his bleeding left leg. He tried again and again, kicking with all his weight to try and get the door to budge, drops of blood flying against the back seat. The door held fast, too twisted to swing even a half inch.

"This is fucking ridiculous," he muttered. "Fucking ridiculous!" he yelled, his head falling back as he slumped back on the seat. And that gave him his second idea of getting out of there.

"Help! Help!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, swinging around in the tight space again, angling his head toward the crushed slit of the window to see the snow drifting downward, its quiet peacefulness in stark contrast to the thoughts hammering through his mind. "I'm down here! Help!" He stopped and listened. He thought he heard trickling water. A bird in the distance. But other than that, complete silence in a snow blanketed world. He was so far down that he could barely hear any traffic. Again, it was only his breathing that surrounded him in the quiet metal cocoon he was in. After a few more hefty yells into the icy air, his throat hoarse, he stopped and dropped his aching head onto his forearms as he lay belly down on the back seat.

"Shit, shit, shit…." he whispered, his eyes closing against the throbbing in his temples.

He was in trouble. Big trouble.

###

Liz and Samar arrived at the Post Office just after 5:00pm to find the place pretty much shut down, and only Aram and Cooper in the building. Aram stood as the elevator doors opened to reveal the two women.

"I was getting worried. Is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine," Samar told him, hooking her arm in his as they walked together back to his desk. "It just took longer up there than we thought, once Torres was found dead."

"Okay, good. I mean, no, it's not good that Mr Torres is dead, obviously." Aram looked around. "Where is Agent Ressler? Wasn't he coming back too?"

"He is probably sitting in the airport lounge right now, knocking back a cold one," Liz grinned.

"Oh, he went! Excellent. I'm glad he did," said Aram, nodding in approval. "Oh, but wait, I didn't get to wish him Merry Christmas before he left."

"Well, call him. You've got time before he takes off," Samar replied, opening her drawer to retrieve her bag, getting ready to leave.

"Should I?"

"Aram just call him. He won't mind," Liz encouraged.

As Aram dialed the number, he waited, his enthusiasm waning with each unanswered ring on the other end. As it rang out and he hung up, he turned to the women. "I guess he has it on silent and didn't hear it ring."

###

Ressler was still on the back seat, head down when the sound of his phone ringing startled him. His head shot up, slamming into the low roof off the car. Howling at the additional pain, holding his hand to the fresh bump, he raised himself up off the seat, pinpointing where the phone was. It was at the back of the mangled vehicle under the crushed in roof. There was no way he could reach it. But he could see it.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he cursed through gritted teeth, looking frantically around for anything that he could use to reach the phone. The light of the screen shone out in the darkness, tantalizingly close, yet oh, so far away. As it continued to ring, he grew more frantic. Help was mere feet away, and he couldn't reach it.

He needed a long stick. His eyes peered out into the underbrush surrounding the car. A branch was what he needed, and he was surrounded by bushes and small trees. When the phone stopped ringing, the silence was deafening. Ressler stopped still, waiting to see if it would ring again. It didn't. To know that someone had called filled him with hope, despite his situation. If he could just reach the phone, he could call out. With a new goal in mind, he sprang into action.

Another look outside in the growing darkness revealed several small trees that might have branches he could use, if he could just reach one of them. The window opening in front of him was about 5 inches wide, just like the driver's door. With an effort, leaving a trail of blood on the back seat from his bleeding leg, he donned his leather gloves, then reached his arm through the opening, intent on a tree branch he might be able to reach. His thick woolen coat brought him up short, the bulk too much for the narrow opening.

Pulling his arm back inside, he began the difficult task of shucking off his coat when he had very little room to move. After several breathless minutes, more cursing and a sudden realization of just how cold it was, he had the coat off. He lay it over himself like a blanket and approached the window again. As his left arm slipped through again, the air outside wasn't any different to the temperature inside the wreckage of the car. But he couldn't think about that now as his gloved fingers brushed against a branch approximately 1 inch thick. After several futile minutes, he was forced to give up. It wasn't budging. He couldn't get that branch with his limited range of motion. He tried again and again, to no avail.

Anger blew up in him and he screamed at the branch, the car, the snow, and the world. Dropping down to the back seat he again lay, pulling up his coat to cover him completely, like a child making a play tent out of their bed sheets. But this was no game. Outside the sun had almost set, and with the loss of its meagre winter warmth, the temperature would plummet overnight. His life could very well depend on him finding a solution to this.

He needed that phone.


	3. Chapter 3

As Liz, Samar, Aram and Cooper left the post office together, Liz glanced at her watch. It was 6:15pm, and Ressler would be winging his way to Detroit at this very moment. She silently wished him well, still aware of that unfilled, empty hole in the middle of her being. She took him for granted, cherished his friendship and comradery, yet she barely showed it. She didn't treat him as well as she should. She hadn't been there for him during some painful episodes he'd had this past year. I'll do better, she told herself, once he returns.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Cooper asked her, standing beside her in the yellow elevator.

She smiled and shook her head. "It's nothing. Just thinking of missed opportunities and friendship and doing better by people."

Cooper put his arm briefly around her shoulders. "The holidays are renowned for bringing out those emotions. This is the time of year it's far more noticeable when we are not with the ones we love and care for." He looked away thoughtfully. "Charlene and I are having Christmas dinner together this year. It's a start, and something I'm extremely grateful for."

Samar leaned on Aram. "That's wonderful, sir. I'm also very thankful this year," she said, lifting her hand to cup Aram's cheek.

Aram smiled, looking at her. "Me too. Absolutely, me too."

"I have a surprise for you tomorrow, my love," Samar told him, looking conspiratorially toward Liz. Aram's eyes shone.

Liz watched them all, feeling like a tiny island amid a sea of caring. She was alone tonight and tomorrow, until she picked up Agnes on Christmas morning. Her thoughts returned to Ressler, who also felt alone even within the circle of his family. Have the best Christmas ever, Ressler, she thought to herself.

###

Under the coat, despite his throbbing headache, Ressler's mind cleared somewhat, and he turned his attention to the front of the vehicle. There were branches across the front of the car, and he might have better luck at grabbing one of those. His phone lay silent and dark in the back, invisible to him without its screen light, but it shone out like a beacon of hope. Crawling out from under his coat, the cold air hit him. A soft breeze was coming in through the smashed windows, bringing in flakes of snow with it.

His breath huffing as he slithered forward between the two front seats, he positioned himself on the passenger seat that was leaning downward toward the ground. With no light outside now, he had to go by feel, and reached as far forward as he could across the dashboard to touch some of the branches across the caved in front end. Several were between one or two inches thick, if he could just break one off.

Shivering hard now, he began his task, reaching far out of the car with his outstretched arm, his feet wedged on the passenger seat. As his gun and holster snagged on some metal, he pulled it from his belt and shoved it in the center console. At least that still opened, while the rest of the car was a crumpled mess. Stretching out the windshield, his upper arm dug painfully into the twisted metal and shattered glass of the windshield as he strained. He ignored the wet feeling on his arm as his suit tore, the metal piercing his skin as fresh blood flowed. He needed a stick.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it, then redoubled his efforts, straining even more to pull on a decent sized branch with his gloved hand. He was rewarded when the crack of the branch filled the darkness, and the branch suddenly gave way. His heart leapt at the sound. The branch still held but it was loose now. If he could twist it, it could just snap that last part of the stringy bark that was holding it to the trunk. And with teeth chattering, and his breath huffing around his face, he set to work. The branch was unwieldy, its offshoots getting in the way as he slowly turned it. "Come on, you son of a bitch!" he hissed through chattering teeth. "Come on!"

And in answer, the branch gave way, causing him to fall back into the car and land on the passenger door again. The warped metal of the door jabbed him in his back again, but all he could focus on was the long stick in his hand. He'd got one! His spirits soared.

###

As Liz unlocked the door to her apartment, she leaned back on the closed door behind her. What had been a home had become a crime scene, and then a stark, cold crime investigation unit that happened to have a bed in it where she slept alone each night. There was no warmth here. No love. Only cold floors and sparse furnishings. No toys covered the floor. No finger paintings adorned her fridge. No sound of laughter or giggles came from her child's bare room. It was Christmas, and she was alone. Tears sprang to her eyes and she angrily brushed them away. She wouldn't give in to melancholy. But she didn't want to stay here either. And with the only place that remotely felt like home for her, she lifted her phone and called Reddington.

"Hey," she said as he answered on the second ring. "Where are you?"

"Elizabeth, lovely to hear your voice. As to where I am, well," he paused, "somewhere in the air approaching Montreal. It's wonderful this time of year," he replied, his joviality grating on Liz's nerves.

"You're in Canada?" He never ceased to amaze her. He'd been in DC less than two hours ago. "So, Christmas across the border this year then?"

"Not so much for Christmas, though that is a splendid idea. You should come. I can have Edward pick you up after he drops Dembe and I off." He spoke as if having his personal pilot fly his equally personal Lear jet back to DC to retrieve her was equivalent to carpooling to work. "I have a matter of some urgency that I must discuss with an acquaintance of mine regarding our dear departed Marco Torres, but afterward I could show you the beautiful city of Montreal."

Liz walked to her empty kitchen, and leaned on the counter, listening to him. "Thanks, but I'll pass. I'm picking Agnes up Christmas morning."

"Aaahh, I see. Enjoy your time with her and give her my love. I do miss the little imp."

"I do too," she replied, then wished Red well and hung up feeling more alone than ever.

"Good grief, girl, snap out of it," she admonished herself, and reached for a half empty bottle of scotch. As she poured herself a shot, her mind sprang to Ressler once more. This was his drink of choice. And silently toasting him in the empty air, she slumped on her couch, drink in hand.

"Merry Christmas to me. Right..."

###

In the cold darkness of the crushed car, Ressler was busy stripping off the smaller twigs on the branch he'd procured but left some of the twigs at one end to form a pseudo 'hand'. Satisfied it would reach his phone, or at least hoping like hell it would, he placed it in the back, then slid through once more to take up his position on the back seat. Armed with his grabbing stick he hefted it over the back seat and into the rear compartment, which was no mean feat with the ceiling pressing in hard on him.

And then found that he couldn't see a freaking thing. He jabbed around with the stick in the direction he'd seen his phone laying but had no idea if he was touching it.

"Like doing it by Braille," he muttered, concentrating, holding the stick outstretched in his hand. He dipped the end to the floor, then began to pull it back in a dragging motion. As it got closer to him, he reached down with his other hand, his head pressing hard on the ceiling above as he leaned further into the back and felt around under the 'hand' end of the stick.

Nothing.

"Damn it." He exhaled, then pushed the stick toward the back of the vehicle to begin the process again.

And so, he continued for well over an hour, unsure if he was feeling something under the hand of the stick, yet pulling it back each time and checking, until his arm and back muscles were screaming at the continued strain of overreaching. He couldn't see the phone and had no idea if he was connecting to it or not. For all he knew, he had pushed it further away. It was hopeless trying in the dark.

Shivering, yet also sweating with the strain, he slumped into the back seat again, still holding his precious stick. Safely depositing it on the floor along the rear seat, he lay down, pulling his coat back over him as the frigid air made his skin prickle. It wasn't warm under his coat, but he was out of the breeze, which helped. His lower left leg was cold, wet with blood, but there was nothing he could do about it. Despite the situation, he laughed out loud. Reddington would have a field day with this, fixing him up, bandaging him and playing doctor. He shivered in the cold, his laughter fading. There was nothing funny about this.

He checked his watch. 7:40pm. He should have just landed in Detroit by now. Under his coat, he could picture his brother waiting at the airport, checking his phone. Checking the boards to see if he'd got the right flight. Pete was the first one who would notice something was wrong. He would call to check. Ressler's eyes widened.

"Shit!" His brother would call looking for him. He shot up again, narrowly missing the caved in ceiling and grabbed his stick. It took less than a minute to get himself in position again, his stick at the ready, extended into the rear compartment, waiting for his phone to light up.

"Come on, come on, come on…" he whispered, watching and waiting. He held his breath, as if to breathe too loud would disturb things. "Come on Pete…"

His phone rang, lighting up the darkness in the back.

"Yes!" Stick in hand he stretched out his arm, now able to see the 'fingers' of the stick in the light of his phone. With his arm stretched as far as it could go, his back muscles rippling and burning, his forehead squashed into the metal of the roof he maneuvered the stick another inch toward his phone.

He couldn't reach it very well, but he could cover it with the 'fingers' of his stick! Now, if he could just grab it and drag it toward him. He steadied the stick in his hand, but when he got ready to pull it, he stared at his phone in horror.

"No!" His previous joy did a 180. "Son of a bitch! No!" Every time the phone rang the vibration moved it a half inch toward the back of the vehicle, with the downward angle the vehicle was on. Slowly and steadily it inched further out of his reach, ringing and vibrating its way toward a gash in the smashed in rear doors. And finally, on the last ring, it tipped precariously on the ruined tailgate, fell through the twisted metal of the torn door and dropped onto the snowy ground behind the car.

"Noooo!"

The ringing stopped, leaving Ressler alone in the dark again. While the phone had been ringing, he'd had a lifeline. Now it was gone. Slumping in the rear seat, he threw his useless stick to the floorboards beside him. "Shit, shit, shit!" he yelled into the darkness, punching the back of the driver's seat. Breathing hard, he stared into darkness enveloping him.

He had no phone. He had no means to call for help. He was on his own.


	4. Chapter 4

Liz picked at a reheated TV dinner as she sat in her quiet kitchen. Her phone lay in front of her, with Scottie's number. She was torn. Why did she have to ask permission to see her own daughter a day early? And yet she was the one who had handed Agnes over to Scottie.

"But it's Christmas Eve tomorrow," she said aloud, her mind made up. She dialed the number and waited. It was picked up at the other end, a woman announcing it was the Hargrave residence.

Liz asked to speak with Scottie, but her hopes were crushed when the maid, presumably, informed her that Ms Hargrave was out of town until late tomorrow night, along with Miss Agnes.

"I see. Could you please remind Scottie I will be there at 8am sharp to pick Agnes up Christmas morning," she told the woman.

"Of course, ma'am, she is expecting you. Have a good evening."

Liz dropped her phone to the kitchen table and ran her fingers through her hair. The silent apartment closed in on her, and she couldn't stay there. Grabbing her coat and keys she exited, resisting the urge to slam the door and took off into the night, driving in the only direction her car wanted to go. She found herself on Ressler's street before she consciously realized where she was going, then slowed as she drove past his apartment block, looking up at his darkened windows. He wasn't there. She knew that. Yet still she had been drawn there.

As she pulled into the underground parking lot at the post office and shut off her car engine she sat there, looking across at the guards by the elevator. She had no place to go. Everyone was busy with family and loved ones. With a sigh, she exited the car, swiped her access badge and approached the elevator.

"Everyone has gone, Agent Keen," one of the men informed her.

"I know. I, uh, just need to finish up on something." She feigned a smile. "May as well get it all done before the holiday, right?"

The guard stepped aside and pressed the elevator button for her. She thanked him and then rode it down. As the doors opened onto the dimly lit war room, she stepped out, and stood there, hands in her pockets. Why had she come here? No one was here. And yet, something had drawn her. It was familiar. It was part of her. It was somewhere she belonged.

She walked to her office, her boots clacking on the hard floor. When she heard a phone ringing, she stopped. It was coming from her office. Quickening her pace, she ran for the door, and entered her office, noting that it wasn't her phone, but Ressler's. Should she answer it? No, it was probably nothing that couldn't wait until he returned. As she started to remove her overcoat, she glanced at the caller ID on the ringing phone.

The name Peter Ressler glowed in the semi dark office. A nagging feeling hit her square in her stomach, and she grabbed for the phone.

"Agent Ressler's phone," she answered breathlessly.

"Oh, hello, I'm looking for Don," the male voice said. "Is he there?"

Liz's heart lurched in her chest as she lowered herself into Ressler's chair. "No, he's not…" There was a familiar pattern to the man's words. The way he spoke. Liz gripped the phone harder. "Are you his brother? In Detroit?"

"I am, yes. Is he there?"

"He's not with you?" she blurted, eyes widening in fear as she sprang to her feet.

"No, I was at the airport. He wasn't on the flight he'd told me he was coming on, so I thought he may be taking a later flight, if he got held up at work or-"

"He left for the airport hours ago for his 6pm flight! He should be there with you!"

"What? Oh, my God." The voice on the other end turned away and she heard him passing on the information to someone with him. Liz gazed out the windows toward Aram's desk, heart pounding. And suddenly she could see Aram calling Ressler's number four hours ago. Ressler hadn't answered then. Why hadn't he answered? A cold dread crept into her bones. Holding Ressler's phone in the crook of her neck, she grabbed her own cell phone and dialed Ressler's number. It rang and rang and rang until the call ended. She felt like crying.

"Where is he?" she said into the phone as Peter came back on the line. "Where the hell is he?!"

###

Ressler lay on the back seat, shivering under his coat, pulling it tight around his neck and face. His back muscles were seizing up from the continual shaking, and try as he might, he couldn't relax them. The cold was creeping into his bones. Earlier his phone had rung twice from its position outside the car, half buried in the snow. Pete checking on him, for sure. And now it was ringing again, taunting him, mocking him. He held his hands over his ears to drown it out.

"Will you shut up!" he shouted, but it didn't help. The phone rang out again. First thing he was doing when he got out of here – because he damn well would get out of here, he told himself –would be to change his ring tone.

As the wind picked up, it whistled through the twisted metal surrounding him. The temperature dropped perceptibly, and snow was coming in harder through what was left of the driver's side window openings. He needed to cover them.

"Right, genius. We'll just call the glass company and have them come put new windows in." He was cold and alone, not to mention frustrated beyond belief, yet speaking out loud helped fill the empty void. With something new to think about, he set his mind to that. What could he use to cover the windows with? Where could he find some packing material that didn't involve taking of a much-needed layer of clothing? The obvious choice were the storage bins in the back, but while still daylight he'd seen them bent out of shape and in no condition to be opened. It was too dark to try and send his stick back that way again and pound on the storage lockers. He needed light for that. And that wasn't coming for another 10 hours at least, until the sun rose.

The glove box came to mind. What was in the glove box?

His head popped out from under his coat, and once more he slid between the front seats. His left leg was throbbing, but he couldn't even see it in the dark. Again, he told himself there was no point worrying about it, yet he couldn't quite ignore it anymore. After laying still his body complained loudly at the movement. Both upper arms were stinging with crusted blood around them, he'd got so used to his headache he barely even cared, and his lower left leg was a cold throbbing mass.

Reaching forward, he pressed the button of the glove box. It didn't open.

"Of course not. Why be helpful, right?" After sliding into the passenger seat, his right shoulder leaning painfully against the mangled door below him, he reached for his precious stick, and used the thicker end to pound at the glove box. One corner of the glove box sprang open. Not quite enough to get his fingers in though and give it a good pull. But without the bulk of his gloves, that might work. It did. With frigid, aching fingers he jammed them into the corner of the glove box, pulled with all his might and suddenly it gave way, slamming him back against the passenger seat.

In the dark, he heard the slithering sound of maps and paperwork sliding onto the floor. An old unused map in a plastic bag. That could cover a window, maybe. But it was when he reached his hand into the darkened glove box that he gave a cry of victory. The wool beneath his fingers made his heart sing.

"God bless you Liz, for always being cold!"

And in the cold dark, shivering so hard his back muscles were cramping, he rammed Liz's thick woolen beanie down onto his head, covering his red ears, then set about figuring how to cover the windows to block out the increasing snowfall.

###

After exchanging cell numbers and hanging up from Peter, Liz had sprung into action. Leaving the post office at a run, flying past the guards outside, she was in her own vehicle in two minutes. Heading across town to Ressler's apartment, her first call was to Cooper. Second call was to Samar who relayed the information to Aram. Ressler had no other family or friends that she was aware. The Task Force was his family. But there was someone else. She lifted her phone again and dialed, carefully weaving through traffic.

"Elizabeth, changed your mind about Montreal?"

"Ressler is missing."

Red's tone changed immediately. "Missing? What do you mean, missing? For how long?"

Driving through an intersection, she quickly explained what she knew to Reddington.

"And we're 100% sure he didn't reach the airport?" Red asked.

"Cooper is on his way to the airport right now. He'll flash his badge and get a copy of the manifest and double check on that. But since Ressler didn't get off the plane in Detroit, he didn't get on it in DC." Liz ran her fingers through her hair, feeling panic rising again. Her white knuckles gripped the steering wheel.

"I'm on my way to his apartment. Almost there. But I don't think he's there because…" she didn't want to tell Reddington she'd driven past Ressler's apartment earlier. "I don't think he's there."

"Check. See if he's there, and then get back to me as soon as you know for sure. I'm going to rearrange my schedule here and can be back in under two hours."

As Red hung up, Liz pulled into Ressler's parking area. Running to his building, she flew through the doors and up the elevator to the 4th floor. Using the spare key he'd given her to his apartment, she let herself in.

"Ressler?" she called. But as soon as she opened the door, she knew the place was empty. But to satisfy herself, she went from room to room, searching. It didn't long. He wasn't there. His travel bag was still on his neatly made bed, ready to take with him. He'd never made it home. Running her fingers along his open, half-filled suitcase, she felt helpless. "What the hell happened, Ress? Where are you?"

Out in the living room, his phone answering machine blinked with a message on it, and when she played it (feeling guilty at doing so) it was his brother Peter, asking if he was there and to please pick up if he was.

"No, he's not here," she whispered, standing in his living room. Liz dropped to the couch and hid her face in her hands. "Where are you, Ress?" she repeated to the empty room.

Her phone rang, and it was Cooper. "Liz, as we feared, he was not on that plane. I'm looking at the surveillance footage of the departure lounge at his gate for 2 hours before his flight, and he's not on it. He never made it to the airport."

Liz's mind had been racing, thinking of worst-case scenarios. "Sir, if he's outside in this weather! Her eyes flew to the snow piling up on the outside of Ressler's window.

"Let's not jump to conclusions yet, Liz. He's resourceful. He could be safe and holed up somewhere, and just not able to contact us."

"Okay, yeah. Okay," she replied, not convinced. Her gut was telling her Ressler was in trouble.

"Sir, what do we do? Where do we start?"

"We'll coordinate from the Post Office. Samar and Aram are on their way. I'll meet you all there."

Liz hung up on her boss and brushing back tears, flew out of Ressler's apartment.


	5. Chapter 5

The wind was picking up, rustling the plastic bag containing the map that covered the rear window, doing a pretty good job of stopping the snow falling on Ressler. Held in place with Band-Aids, another treasure he'd found in the glove box, so far it was adhering to the metal struts of the window. There wasn't much he could do about the gaping windshield if the wind direction changed, but for now the wind was coming from the side of the car, and his cover was helping.

In the dark, he checked the time, more difficult now with cold, painful fingers. It was approaching midnight. He'd been trapped for about nine hours. His face hurt. His hands, even under leather gloves and the added layer of latex gloves underneath, a brainwave he'd had a couple of hours ago, were stiff and hard to move. Under his coat, he huddled, chin down, his hands in his armpits and his knees drawn up to try and garner some warmth. But there was none to be had.

With eyes closed, his body hurting in places and numb in others, alone in the dark and cold, he wondered again if anyone was looking for him. Did the Task Force think he was in Detroit, and had his family assumed he'd just stayed at work? Did they know he'd missed his flight? There was no way for him to know, yet still he couldn't keep the thought from his mind.

Was anyone looking for him?

What would happen to him if no one came?

"You'll die…" he whispered, and with his eyes closed, freezing and exhausted, he finally drifted off to a fitful sleep.

###

"Okay, people, what do we know? Lay it out on the board here, folks." Cooper had taken charge.

Liz taped up the map of the area they'd been at that afternoon, pointing to the Torres estate. She jabbed a pin into where the mansion was located. "Okay, this is the road we took up there. Wouldn't he take the same road back?"

"Would he though? If he didn't have to come back to the Post Office before heading to the airport, might he have taken the bypass here?" Samar pointed to the map, her fingernail running along a side road.

"No, he still needed to go by his apartment to get his bag. And he never made it back there," Liz added. She looked away, seeing the suitcase on Ressler's bed. "It's still there waiting for him…"

She felt Aram's hand on her shoulder. "Liz, we're gonna find him."

She attempted a weak smiled for him, nodding. They had to find him. "Reddington's on his way back. He'll be here in an hour or so and said he has resources we can use."

"Of course, he does," said Samar, nodding.

"Aram, have you tried pinging Ressler's phone again?" Cooper asked.

"I did, but I'm still only getting a general area. He pointed to the map, "Around here." His finger circled the map between the Torres estate and DC.

"That's no damn help, Aram!" Liz snapped, then bit her tongue. "I'm sorry." She turned away.

"Aram, is there a way we can narrow it down?" Cooper asked.

"I think so. You said you spoke to him when he was 45 minutes away from the Post Office." He approached the map. "So if it took an hour to reach the Torres estate…"

Liz turned back to listen, then pointed at the map. "Then he would have been about here when he talked to you," she said to Cooper, circling a much smaller area on the map.

"I'll try and triangulate cell phone towers in that area and see if I can get a closer location," Aram said, and ran back to his computer.

"In the meantime, Samar, call air patrol and see if we can get a chopper up there with thermal imaging. If Ressler has had a traffic accident, we might get lucky and spot him."

Samar nodded to Cooper, strode to her desk and picked up her phone.

"Sir, what would you like me to do?" Liz asked him.

Cooper turned to her and put his arm around her shoulders. "Pray."

###

Ressler woke with a start, not knowing where he was. It was dark. He hurt. And he was excruciatingly cold. At the sound of the plastic bag rustling in the wind, it all came flooding back.

"Shit. It wasn't a dream."

Every breath chilled his throat, even under his coat. But he'd stopped shivering, he noticed. That was something. If it was a good something, or a bad something, he wasn't sure, but he'd take it for now. Attempting to stretch his body resulted in more cold pain, so he didn't try again, only curled himself a little more.

His mouth was dry. He was surrounded in wet snow yet thirsty. Did he dare attempt to eat some snow to quench a little of his thirst? He decided against it for two reasons, the first being that he didn't think he could move that far if he tried. The second being that even if he could move, he'd drop his body temperature even further if he swallowed snow.

It was all too hard to think about. He shut his eyes again, huddled under his coat, and wondered if it would hurt to freeze to death.

"No!" he hissed, trying to shake those thoughts from his head. He was not going to die here. He was not.

But you might, he thought again and this time he couldn't shake the fear. He didn't want to die. Not like this, trapped in a twisted sardine can of a car. Not like any way at this stage of his life. He wasn't even 40. He couldn't die before 40. His mother would never forgive him. His mother's face swam into view, leaning over him, kissing his cheek as she'd done when he was a child.

"I'm sorry, mom," he whispered, and with her hand cupping his cheek, he fell asleep again.

###

"What do you mean, we can't get a chopper up there?" Cooper asked Samar.

"It's the weather. They can't fly in this in the dark."

"Then we're going to need to go up there and look on foot," Liz replied, shaking her head.

"Not possible in the dark. We could go right by him just a few feet away and never see him." Cooper shrugged, looking at his team. "I'm sorry, I'm just as worried and frustrated."

Behind them, Aram let out a holler. "I found him! Kinda!"

"Oh, my God, where?" Liz asked, rushing to his side.

Aram was at his computer, bringing up a satellite map. "Okay, his phone is no longer giving a signal." He looked up at them. "Um…It could have just run out of battery. Or got wet, or… something."

He returned his attention to the screen again. "These three towers, here, here and here," he said, pointing at his screen, "picked up his cell phone signal at this exact point on the road. We know he was there when he spoke to Mr Cooper. Their range only extends to here…" he drew a circle on his screen with his mouse, just outside the place Ressler had taken the phone call.

"That puts him right in there!" Liz said finishing Aram's sentence. It was a small area in comparison to the 40 square miles they'd started with.

"One square mile. He's in there… somewhere," Aram said, looking up at them. "That means he's…

"He's out in this weather. Even in his vehicle, he's out in this weather." Liz whirled to Cooper. "We need a search party out there now!"

Before he could answer, the elevator doors opened and Red walked in, Dembe in tow.

"We've found him!" Liz said, walking toward him.

"Well, kinda…" Aram clarified behind her.

"But we need manpower. We need to find him before he freezes to death out there."

Reddington stopped, twirling his hat in his hand. "Then I've come back just at the right time. I have my para military team standing by."

Liz could have hugged him.

"But not so fast, Elizabeth." Red said to her. "As much as we all desire to rush on out there right now and find dear Donald, we can't. We must wait until first light."

"We can't!" Liz exploded.

"He's right," Cooper said. "We have no choice. We don't know the terrain. We don't know where he is exactly. We could all end up lost or hurt looking for him."

Liz was frantic. "And he could die out there tonight in this weather! It's 12 degrees out there!" she spun back to Reddington. "Red, please! Help him!"

Red met her eyes. Saw the desperate need to find her partner. And didn't Donald deserve that much, after all he'd done for her? For all of them. He lifted his phone.

"Gavin. Get your team assembled and prepare for a night search and rescue. I'm giving you to Aram. He will give you the coordinates."

And this time, Liz did hug him.

###

The wind had changed direction. It was the first thing Ressler noticed when he struggled out of his latest freezing cold nap. Snow was coming in through the windshield, drifting through the front of the car and landing on him as he lay on the back seat. There was nothing he could do about it. If he had the energy, he'd have rolled over onto his right side to turn into the back of the bench seat, but that felt like far too much effort for his stiff body. An attempt to see what time it was failed, as he was no longer able to work his fingers enough to press the tiny nightlight button on his watch. But it was still pitch black. Still the middle of the night.

For the first time, he was afraid. Truly afraid that he was going to die out here if help didn't come soon. He couldn't take a lot more of this. His heavy eyelids wanted to close once more. Part of him was afraid if he closed them, he'd never wake up. He'd just drift off in his sleep, never to wake again on this earth. The other part fought a little harder to stay awake, and to maintain some control. But it was a pointless battle. Laying still and cold in the dark gave him nothing to stay awake for. His eyes drooped again, and he drifted in and out. His mother was there again. And so was Pete. He told them he was sorry. He'd screwed up big time.

"Sorry, mom…" he whispered, trying again to stay awake. His eyes apparently had lead weights on them and refused to stay open.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, to just slip away and die. He'd be with Audrey again. Sweet Audrey who never hurt anyone in her life and who had suffered because of him. As his mind drifted in and out of a heavy sleep state, he saw her, soft and pure and radiant in front of him. Kneeling down to him, she kissed his cheek. He reached for her in the dark, needing to be done with the painful cold. If he died, he would be warmer. He welcomed that.

And he'd be with his baby girl at last. His unseen, unborn child who was with Audrey. "Daddy's coming home baby…." He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there, just out of his reach.

And then Liz was there, her wonderfully warm hands cupping his frigid cheeks. "Liz…" She smiled at him and told him they were coming. He wanted to believe her.

"You're not going to die out here, Ress. We're coming."

"Liz…" he reached for her, but she was fading as he drifted back up toward consciousness. The cold increased as he did so, bitter and sharp around him, stabbing at his body with its icy fingers.

"Oh, God…." he croaked, his breath hitching as tears sprang to his eyes and rolled down into his clothing. The cold was unbearable.

But something had changed. He felt it more than saw it. Or perhaps it was just hearing Liz's voice, still echoing in his mind. Peering out from under his coat, nothing had changed though. Or had it? Was that light? Was dawn finally coming? With tear filled eyes that threatened to close again he struggled to focus. Through the front windshield he was sure he had seen a light moving, up the slope and some distance away. His heart jumped in his chest as he painfully dragged himself up and toward his covered window, trying to look out. His plastic bag over the window had blown off while he'd slept, and he peered up through the crushed window, but all he saw were the snow-covered trees and bushes right outside lit by a very faint moon somewhere above the clouds.

Returning his gaze to the front, he could no longer tell if there were lights. Had someone been out there? Or maybe he was just seeing things. "Please," he whispered, his voice hoarse and dry. "Please…" He opened his mouth to shout, but no words came out of his frozen throat. There it was again, a faint light moving away from him in the distance.

"No!" he whispered, his mouth dry and icy cold. They couldn't leave! His mind flared, a thought coming hot and fast. For the first time, it occurred to him that even though his vehicle was black, it was now buried under a few inches of snow. Invisible. Panic soared through his veins. They wouldn't see him. They could walk right by him and not see him! And he couldn't shout to get their attention.

But he could fire his gun.

Willing his numb fingers to work he fumbled at the catch on the center console where he'd tossed his gun and holster hours ago. It wouldn't open. Come on! He screamed inwardly, begging his fingers to stop being pieces of cold meat and work. With an agonizing thump, his hand landed on the catch to the console and the lid flew up. He couldn't see it, but he knew his gun was in there. Another glance out the window told him the lights had moved on. They were moving away from him. Do it! He screamed at himself. Move!

Fumbling with his weapon, he pulled it from the holster. "Don't shoot your damn self," he whispered, the with difficulty, put his index finger through the trigger and aimed the gun skyward out of his small window slot. Fire, he told himself. Pull the damn trigger! His finger was ignoring him. It would not work. He couldn't pull the trigger.

"No," he hissed, tears rolling down his cheeks, already beginning to freeze on his pale, icy cold face. "No!"

Exhausted, he fell back down to the bench seat, as the gun slipped from his fingers in the dark.


	6. Chapter 6

By 4am, Red's team and the Task Force were assembled on the road at the approximate place where Ressler had spoke to Cooper on the phone. Dressed in heavy outdoor wear, boots, hats, gloves and strong lights on their helmets, Red's team looked ready to take on an army. Red spoke with Gavin, the leader, who then turned to his assembled team of eight men.

"You have your search grid. Fan out in two-man teams and let's get this side of the road searched. You know the drill. Move out!"

"Where do you want us?" Liz asked Gavin.

"For now, right here. If the teams see any sign of your man, then we'll see if we can get you down to him to assist." At Liz's frustration, he added, "I know, but I don't want you guys traipsing around in the dark and us needing to rescue you as well as your agent. Please, ma'am. We're trained for this stuff. Let us do our jobs."

She nodded, knowing Gavin was right. "Thank you." Returning to the warm SUV, she climbed in the front passenger seat. Samar looked across to her from the driver's seat. "Let me guess. He told you we have to wait here so that they don't have to rescue us too?"

Liz just nodded and leaned her head on the headrest. The wait was agonizing.

In the rear seat with Cooper, Aram had his laptop with an interactive map and topography of their immediate area. "It's very steep down there. It will be difficult for us to get down if they do find him."

"When they find him," Liz clarified.

"Um, yes. When."

"I know this is hard. For now, we let Red's men do their jobs." Cooper opened the rear door, then strode over to climb in beside Red as he waited with Dembe in his car.

"How good are these men?" Cooper asked.

Red turned to him. "Harold, surely you know by know I only surround myself with the best. If Donald is down there, they will find him."

###

Ressler lay immobile on the back seat, unable to move his coat back over himself. If there were lights out there, he could no longer lift his head to see them. Painful breaths caught in his throat, as the icy air infiltrated his body. He would never feel warm again. He would just slowly freeze to death right here. A small thought came to him, amid the painful cold. Weren't you supposed to feel warm right before you froze to death? If that was the case, then bring it on. Anything to feel some semblance of warmth in his bones.

His eyes closed for what he felt might be the last time. He drifted downward, just wanting to stop feeling his cold, painful body. Just needing to escape to someplace where the cold couldn't reach him.

###

"Screw this," Liz said, reaching for her door handle.

"Where are you going?" Samar and Aram asked simultaneously.

"If he had and accident along this stretch of road and went off it, there would be some sign, right? We'd see something! Broken branches or damaged trees, right?"

Samar looked at Aram, who turned to Liz. "But the snow will have covered everything. Liz, we're not going to-"

"I don't want to hear it, Aram! Either help me or stay here!"

"Um, I only meant that…" He looked plaintively to Samar, who nodded and opened her door. Aram grabbed his flashlight and joined the two women outside the vehicle. Together, they walked to the side of the road the teams were searching on.

"Shine your lights on the trees. The snow will have covered any tracks by now," Liz told them, and together they began to walk slowly, their flashlights lighting the trees and bushes to their left. Though snow covered, there were pockets where the trees showed through. Cooper exited Red's car and jogged over to them. When they explained what they were doing, he nodded. It was a long shot, but he wasn't going to tell his team they couldn't play a part in the rescue of their friend and colleague.

Below them, the teams were searching, climbing down the embankment in the dark. Red joined Cooper on the road as Liz, Samar and Aram walked away, their flashlights shining in the dark.

"We're going to find him, Harold."

As they walked, Liz felt the icy air tugging at her skin and entering her lungs with each breath. She pulled her woolen hat closer over her head and ears and lifted the hood of her weatherproof coat, tying it securely under her chin.

"Man," Aram said behind her, "I can't believe how cold it is, and this wind is just…" he stopped. They all knew how cold it was, and that Ressler had been out in it for over 13 hours.

Samar patted his back, and on they walked.

###

Ressler could no longer wake up. He tried a few times, but in the end accepted his fate and let nature take its course. Dying like this sucked, on a scale of '1 to worst ways to die', but he'd be with Audrey and his baby girl soon. He drifted downward, and finally there it was. There was the long-awaited break from the cold. Warmth flooded his body. He cried with the joy of it. The cold was leaving his body. It felt wonderful.

And there they were, coming for him. Audrey coming out of the light again, and behind her, the small shape of his child approaching him. There she was, coming out from behind Audrey. His beautiful baby girl, with dark hair and red highlights and his own blue eyes. She was so little and perfect and so beautiful, just like her mother.

"Daddy's coming sweetie. Daddy's here…"

###

They'd been walking for about 40 minutes and had just crossed a small bridge over a frozen creek when Liz stopped. "Look!" She waved her flashlight at a spot on a tree. The branch was broken, bent back away from the road.

"Oh, my God," Aram slid down the bank a little, hung onto the tree, and brushed the snow off the branch. "It's a fresh break!"

Immediately they scanned the trees around them. "And here! Another one!" Samar called, reaching down to another branch a few feet from the first one. They shone their beams down the bank, and there was further sign of something having gone through the trees.

"He went down here!" Liz grabbed her phone and with numb fingers dialed Cooper's number.

"We found it! We know where he left the road!"

Her face was numb and red with cold, and when she turned back to Samar and Aram they had the same features. But all of their eyes radiated from under their winter clothing. They knew where he was. They were close.

Still on the phone to Cooper, she heard him relaying the find to Reddington. He in turn radioed Gavin.

"We're on our way!" Cooper told her and hung up. "Damn," he said to Reddington. "We may just have a happy ending to this after all."

Red nodded, looking out the window at the fresh snow that had begun to fall. "Let's hope so," he said worriedly as Dembe started the car. As Cooper and Red drove to where the task force was waiting on the side of the road, they came across the small gathering a few minutes later, and were surprised to see two orange clad men with them. They parked and walked up to the group.

Liz turned to them. "This is John Beckham and his son, Will. They've been hunting on this ridge for the past couple of hours and haven't seen anything out of the ordinary."

Cooper turned to the men, who were armed with rifles, traps and lanterns that still bobbed and glowed around them. "You hunt in this weather?"

"Yes sir, night is the best time to find and trap coyotes, rabbits, and small game," the man told him.

"And the snow makes it easier to see their tracks," his son added.

"I'll take your word for it," Cooper replied. "Do you know this area well?"

"Grew up around here, Sir, so yeah, this is our stomping grounds. You got a man lost down there, I hear?"

"We do. Any help you can give us with your knowledge of the area will be of great help," Cooper told him, turning at the sound of the large truck with Red's team in it. "Come with me, and I'll let you talk with the leader of our search party."

As the hunters talked with Gavin, Liz and the team were once again shining their lights down the embankment. How far down there was he? Was he hurt? Was he still alive?

"We need to hurry," Liz said, her face drawn. Aram wrapped his arms around her, and she fell into his grasp, the tears finally flowing.

"We're gonna get him, Liz," he assured her.

###

Ressler was happy. For the first time in many, many years, he was happy. With Audrey at his side, and his baby girl laughing and giggling on his lap, he felt nothing but joy. And he was warm, surrounded by light and peace. If this was death, or the brink of it, it was okay. It was more than okay. There was no pain, no aching chill to his bones. His baby kissed his cheek and held his fingers in her tiny hands and he laughed until he felt tears of joy on his cheeks. He was home.

###

"Get that thermal unit over here!" Gavin called as his men poured over the ridge, following the track that Ressler's vehicle had taken. It was rough going, with an almost vertical drop. Searchlights shone from the top of the ridge, their lights cutting down through the snow and trees for some distance. And down this path of light, eight men descended, held safely by ropes and harnesses.

There was no sign of a vehicle, yet they knew it was down here somewhere, hidden under the trees and snow.

From the road, the men were quickly lost to sight, but their voices and shouts wafted up to the team huddled together. Cooper had insisted they wait in the warm car, but they would hear none of it. Stiff with cold themselves, their skin red and their noses dripping, Liz, Saram and Aram waited together in the cold wind for word. And instead of making them get back into the warm car, Cooper opted to hold vigil with them.

Below the ridge, Gavin had the thermal scope to his eye, scanning the area every few feet as his men fanned out below him. Nothing showed among the snow-covered trees. They descended further, and he checked again.

There. A pale yellow shape amid the darkness of the trees.

"He's there! Fan out to your left and down!" he shouted, and up on the road, they heard his shout come up to them.

"Oh my god!" Aram cried as they held onto each other.

And down below, Gavin's team descended on the yellow shape on the thermal scanner. The car was hidden under the snow, but as they brushed the snow off it, the full scope of the damage to the vehicle became apparent. Strong flashlights shone in the smashed windshield and crushed vehicle to reveal a still shape on the back seat.

They had found him.


	7. Chapter 7

Ressler was holding his daughter, as they snuggled, warm and cozy. But suddenly arms were taking her away from him. He reached out to hang onto her. "No," he begged, needing his baby girl to come back to him. "Baby girl, no!"

And then he realized she wasn't being taken from him. He was being pulled away from her. She was again standing beside her mother, and in the bright light Audrey reached forward and kissed him one last time, and they turned and walked away from him, hand in hand.

"Come back! Please!" he cried, tears streaming. "No!"

He was being pulled back up and away from them, and as they disappeared, and the light went out, he sobbed for them. "Audrey, please don't leave! Bring her back!"

And the cold hit him again. Crushing his airway, wracking his body with pain again. It was too much after the warmth and light. Hands were on him. Voices surrounded him. Bright lights were shining outside his closed eyes. The sound of a saw cutting into metal filled his ears.

He didn't want to be here. Not where it was achingly, excruciatingly cold and every inch of his body hurt. Tears streamed from his closed eyes as somewhere a man's voice was telling him it was okay. That they'd found him, and he was safe.

That he was alive.

###

"Here they come!" Liz called out, straining her eyes to see down the ridge. The lights from Red's team were getting closer as they made their way back up the slope, pulling a caged stretcher up by a pulley. And Ressler was in that cage.

"Move back! Give us room!" Gavin called as they neared the top.

As they stood aside, the rescuers pulled Ressler to the roadside, holding his covered cage between 4 of them. Liz strained to see his face, but he was cocooned in a silver thermal blanket.

"Is he alive? Is he okay?" she begged.

Gavin turned to her as the men quickly took Ressler to the large truck. Inside it a doctor waited. Red hadn't been lying when he said he'd have everything Ressler needed. The truck was a mobile ER.

"I can tell you he's alive. I don't know if he is okay." Gavin stood back with the task force, his side of the rescue now completed as his men dismantled the pulley system and began stowing their gear. He turned to Liz, seeing the fear in her eyes. "You can go on in there and be with him while they work on him."

Liz didn't need to be told twice and ran to the truck. One of the rescuers helped her up the high step at the rear, and she entered the truck nervously. Half of it was a troop and gear carrier, and in the back was a section akin to the inside of an ambulance. She stood in this area, and finally saw Ressler, or at least the top of his head. The rest of him was surrounded in blankets and heating elements. A mask was over his face. His cold limp hand was held by the doctor as he inserted an IV.

The doctor glanced her way, then resumed his task. "He'll be okay. His body temperature is extremely low, and I'm about to get warm saline flowing through his veins. He's breathing warm air. We'll get his temp back up, don't you worry."

Finding a discreet corner to sit in, Liz watched them work on Ressler, silently begging and praying for him to be okay.

###

And as Ressler warmed up slowly and the ache lifted a little from his body, he opened his eyes and saw someone smiling down at him. It wasn't Audrey or his baby girl. They were gone, just as he always knew they were. He missed them. He would always miss that part of his life and heart. Liz was holding his hand. His warm hand. He met her eyes silently as she smiled again.

"Welcome back," she said, sniffing and quickly brushing away tears that rolled down her cheeks.

He simply looked at her and gave her hand the faintest of squeezes. He was alive. And he was glad to be. He didn't know where he was. It wasn't a hospital, yet he was in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs. It appeared to be a private residence.

"You have some visitors," Liz told him and leaned back. His eyes drifted reluctantly from Liz, and there on the other side of the bed was his mother. Behind her stood his brother, Pete.

"Way to go to get out of coming home, brother," Pete said, laughing.

His mother kissed his forehead, smiling, holding his other hand and brushed away her own tears.

"Cooper is outside with Red," Liz told him. "And at our insistence, Samar and Aram left a little bit ago and are spending the evening up at the Torres mansion."

It was still Christmas Eve. Ressler took that in. It felt like a lifetime ago that he'd left the Torres crime scene. He nodded, surprised at the effort just that small movement took.

"I'll be bringing Agnes here tomorrow, and we'll celebrate here," Liz told him.

Ressler smiled at that. "I'd like that," he said, his voice hoarse. She wasn't his baby girl. She was in heaven with her mother. But Agnes was the closest he had to a child and he adored her. Liz squeezed his hand.

"You need to just rest, dear, and we'll be staying here and spending Christmas with you tomorrow," his mother told him. She leaned in conspiratorially. "I don't know who this Red person is, but my goodness, he has fine taste. This place is amazing. His people have taken the very best care of you and welcomed us."

And at that, Ressler smiled. How could he ever explain to his mother just who this Red person was. His eyelids were heavy again. And warm, content and loved, he drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

THE END


End file.
